


Just fine

by CatRoofDance



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Death References, I'm famous for my semi happy endings, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, References to Suicide, Simmons Dad is an asshole, So beware, also a lot of swearing, alternate universe - military academy, being roommates is awkward, destiny is a bitch sometimes, m/m relationship, obviously, paintball hurts like hell, there will be the follwing later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-20 17:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatRoofDance/pseuds/CatRoofDance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard F. Simmons is ok with being alone. He is in his second semester at the St. Burns Military Academy and tries his best to impress his father to whom he always seemed to be a disappointment.<br/>When the new boy, Dexter Grif, becomes his roommate, Richard is suddenly faced with a lot of problems: Other students, almost deadly paintball matches in the woods, a lost child, and most of all an annoying roommate who desperately tries to be his friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preparing for a war light-years away

**Author's Note:**

> After watching all Red vs Blue episodes in less than a week I came up with the idea of an Military Academy AU (basically because I felt so incredible sorry for Simmons most of the time and wondered what he would be like in a school of some sort).
> 
> So this is it. It's a story about an outsider who tries to become a hero. A story about a young man who is suddenly confronted with the fact that he himself could be important after all. And a story about friendship and love and the importance of support. 
> 
> I don't know if I ever finish this. At least it's summer and I'm in my semester break. I planned 13 chapters but I guess it could be more in the end. 
> 
> A warning in the beginning: There will be references to violence, suicide, bullying, death and gay sex (yeah, surprise). I'm not sure how far these references get, maybe it's even more than just references. But I will change the warnings and all accoriding to the flow of the story.
> 
> Also: I'm not a native speaker and though I consider myself quite good at speaking and writing in English I'm still far from flawless. So if someone would like to point out some major mistakes of any sort, feel free to let me know.
> 
> Yeah, right, ok. Now: Shall we begin?

**1\. Preparing for a war light-years away**

Richard F. Simmons is ok with being alone. He likes that he doesn’t have to share his room so he can put all his books on the top mattress of the bunk bed. He likes that he is able to read during lunch time because no one tries to talk to him. He is ok with being chosen last when they’re building teams for tactical training. And most of the time he’s totally ok with being ignored because to be honest, there is nothing much interesting about Richard F. Simmons, or so he would say about himself.

There is one thing, though. One little thing he would talk to you about if he would trust you. If he would like you and you’d already proven to be a friend. There is one little thing Richard F. Simmons would talk to you about if you were best friends, maybe after two or three beer, at night, at some place quiet. And that thing is his father.

But you’re not his best friend. It’s not night and you haven’t drank any beer. So all you can do is sit there and wonder what the deal with this skinny boy is. And then eventually you would get up and leave and forget about the skinny boy with all the freckles. Because that’s what they all do, and seriously, Richard F. Simmons is pretty ok with it.

 

The academy is a grey modern building surrounded by a lot of trees. Richard can’t really say where exactly it is, he just knows he got on a train in New Washington and drove for about three hours before getting off the train somewhere around nowhere. But he doesn’t really care. Everything the cadets do all day is sitting in lecture halls listening to all kind of boring yet necessary information. Or they meet outside on training grounds to run in circles the whole day and sometimes they are sent into the woods for tactical training because it feels “more real” to be outside, lost between dark tree trunks, struggling not to stumble over every root in their heavy armour.

Rumour has it one of the kids never returned.

Well, “kid” isn’t the right word, exactly. Most of the cadets are 20 and above, finished school and didn’t know where to go after that. Some are just a bunch of good-for-nothings who got sent here by their parents to get sorted out. And some still believe being sent to another planet to fight aliens is actually a good thing.

When Richard Simmons first came to the academy it was autumn and the forests surrounding the academy were painted in yellow and orange and red. The grey building with its huge window panes reflecting the sky looked strangely out of place. Since then Richard got used to the academy’s uninviting looks. In fact he now finds it to be very calming and he enjoys sitting outside on one of the benches, bend over a book, the rustling and whooshing of the wind in the trees in the background.

Richard is in his second semester and he really thinks it’s going to be fine. He was afraid, at first. Although he himself wished to go to the academy he feared to be alone between hundreds of other students who would probably bully him because he was so skinny and quiet, at least that’s what the kids in Highschool did. But after a while Richard learned that the others really didn’t give a fuck. They were mostly minding their own business, concentration on their studies and trying to get fitter, preparing for a war that was currently happening light-years away. So Richard now lives a calm life between them, studies even harder as anyone else and tries his best to become a bit more athletic and sporty.

And then, as some nights sometimes do, one night changes almost everything. That one night sets off a string of events that leads to another string of events. To fist fights and broken hearts, to failing and winning, to death and life, And eventually to a revelation.

Strangely that one night isn’t very remarkable. It’s not raining and there is no storm currently shaking the trees. It’s not especially warm, just what you’d expect in spring around April, and nothing strange had happened the nights and weeks and months before. It is just a night and Richard Simmons is just sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall and reading a book about different types of war machines through the times.

And then suddenly someone knocks on his door and Richard raises his head in puzzlement.

“Yeah, come in”, he says, lowering the book, watching the door carefully after checking the time on his clock.

When the door opens there are standing two figures in the frame. He knows the taller one, a brawny guy with broad shoulders, his blond hair combed back, showing his receding hairline. That’s headmaster Flowers and when Richard recognises him he instantly jumps out of his bed and salutes.

“It’s ok, Simmons,” Flowers says calmly. “Stand at ease. No need to be overly prim at that time of the day.” Richard relaxes a bit, lowers his hand besides his body. “Ok, listen Simmons. We’ve got a new cadet and yes I know it’s not usual that they arrive at this time of the year but let’s just say it’s nothing you should be concerned about.”

Richard nods carefully, and then he looks at the other person who’s standing behind Flowers, his bag lying in front of his feet. He can’t really make out his face, though, as it still lies in the shadows of the dim hallway.

“Simmons, your room has a free bed, as I was told, so the new cadet will be sleeping here. I’m sure you two will get along nicely. Please be sure to show the new one around tomorrow.”

With these words “the new one” finally enters the room, listlessly dragging his bag behind him and coming to a halt in the middle of the small room.

“Well then,” Flowers says and smiles one of his assuring smiles at Richard. “Have a good night then, cadets.”

“Sir, yes Sir,” Richard says grimly at which Flowers waves his hand in amusement. The new one just dully lifts his head and smiles. The headmaster closes the door and the two of them are finally alone, awkwardly standing in the silence.

“Soooooo....” The new one scratches his neck, then his ruffled blonde hair. His skin is tanned, his eyes dark and tired in the dim light of the room. “I’m Dexter Grif. But my friends call me Dex, so I guess you could call me that, too.” And then he puts out his hand, ready for Richard to shake it.

Richard stares at the hand and he really thinks about taking it. But then he just nods and says: “Nice to meet you, Dexter Grif. I’m Richard Simmons. Your mattress is the one on the top. So yeah, lights out at 10, you better hurry up.”

Dexter Grif looks at Richard for some seconds. Then he looks at the top mattress of the bunk bed. He stopped smiling.

“I’m not sleeping with all the books on there,” he says and then he disappears into the bathroom.

And Richard Simmons just stands there and listens to Dexter Grif brushing his teeth and he knows that in the future things are going to be quite the opposite of just fine.


	2. Sad people and stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not even a single day has passed and Dexter Grif has made more friends than Richard Simmons ever had. And Leonard Church is an asshole.

**2\. Sad people and stuff**

Richard is used to be alone in his room when he wakes up. Now he hears another person breathing from above. He stares at the bottom of the mattress and tries to think about his next steps.

Normally he would get up, get dressed and leave the room for a short walk. He’s usually the first and only person outside walking along the edge of the forest. He tried jogging once but in all honesty he isn’t very good at sports and always felt exhausted afterwards instead of energised. So he decided to stroll about the building, sometimes in company of a book, until he has to get ready for breakfast and his first class.

But now he’s lying in his bed, watching the mattress above him, listening to Dexter Grif who is still fast asleep. Richard tries to move, tries to get up but he can’t convince his body to do so. So he just lays there, fingers intertwined, eyelid twitching, and curses his anxiety.

 

Dexter Grif in full daylight looks as about the same as at night. His hair is a bit more brownish but his skin still has a good amount of tan and he still has a face that Richard can’t quite link to a country. He smiles a lot. It annoys the hell out of him.

They barely speak, Richard just eventually tells Grif to follow him. He shows him the library, the lecture halls and the training grounds, and while Richard silently mumbles some information Grif just stands there and looks in the other direction.

 During their first lecture they sit side by side, Richard constantly writing stuff down and Grif looking around interested. When they later enter the cafeteria Grif disappears but Richard doesn’t mind. He just receives his food and sits down at an empty table, stares into blank space and pushes his food around on his plate.

Someone slaps him on the back and suddenly Dexter Grif laughs and sits down to his left. And he brought some new friends. Without taking much notice of Richard they sit down as well and start eating, chattering and yeah, Grif pretty much seems to enjoy himself. Richard stares at his food, tries to take a look at the others.

He knows all their names because when he hears something once he never forgets. The noisy one is Lavernius Tucker; all he seems to be interested in is a red-headed girl two tables to his left, he constantly talks about “getting it on with her” and “making sweet love to anyone who volunteers and looks good enough”.

The guy with the ear ring and dyed blond hair is Franklin Donut; at the beginning of the first semester he tried to chat Richard up a couple of times but gave up eventually. He is the only one who looks at Richard from time to time and even nodded once as if to say Hello.

And then there’s Leonard Church.

Church is, to say the least, ambitious. As son of the former headmaster people expect a lot, and he always delivers. Best marks, best lap times, best scores. Sometimes Richard beats him when it comes to tests or a quiz. But never in sports. Church has the bad habit of smiling at Richard, a sorry smile, a smile that says _Maybe next time, Simmons._ In the end Richard is always the one who loses. He watched him cross the finishing line long before he himself arrived during the relay race last September. He watched him take the medal for best grades at the end of his first semester. And he watched him get the girl.

The girl.

Richard was never really interested in anyone. His anxiety made it hard enough to even communicate with others and his time at Highschool taught him that humans are not worth the effort of trying to overcome that issue. And to be honest, most people don’t even impress him much.

But the girl.

He knows he was stupid to think she could’ve been interested in him. He knows that Allison Tex is the exact match for Leonard Church, and really, they deserve each other. But the moment her eyes changed from grim to friendly in a matter of seconds after she floored him without much effort during training, the moment she held her hand out for him to take it and helped him up, mumbling _Gosh, you’re ok?,_ he knew that for the first time in his life someone had aroused his interest.

Now he knows he couldn’t even handle her temperament, her constant changes in mood, her shouting at her boyfriend in one second and her whispering sweet words into his ear in the other. But that one time someone showed a bit concern, someone actually asked how he felt, Richard fell in love for about two days.

Yeah, Leonard Church is in most ways exactly what Richard Simmons wants to be. And that is why he hates him with all his heart.

They don’t even recognise it when Richard eventually gets up and leaves. They just go on about their plans for a party next weekend and the news from the war zone.  Richard puts his plate away, his food not even half eaten. But he isn’t hungry. He never is. He looks back at the table where Dexter Grif sits between his new friends and laughs, and all he feels is a sudden sickness.

 

“You could’ve stayed and talked with us for a while,” Dexter Grif says later that day, scratching his neck awkwardly and staring into the sinking sun.

Richard huffs. “Yeah?” he asks.

“You know, the people here are all really cool and stuff. You didn’t even say Hi.”

For some seconds he tries his best to concentrate on the first two sentences of the article about Basic Medicine. But he can’t.

“These people you’re talking about are not exactly my friends.” It comes out less bitter than it was supposed to be. It sounded more exhausted and resigned.

Grif is really good at avoiding his gaze. “So they’re more like your arch-enemies or what?” He laughs.

Richard tries to smile, he really does, but it seems like he forgot how to do that long ago. So he just shakes his head and says: “I don’t do friends. So they’re nothing, really. Just people.”

“Just people,” Grif mumbles and leans back on his seat. “Wow. That’s sad.”

_Yeah, you tell me,_ Richard thinks, his fingers clenching around the article, forming dents on the grey paper.

“God, I don’t like being around sad people,” Grif suddenly says and stands up. “They bum me out. So yeah, see you later.” He lifts his hand. He waves. He disappears.

And Richard can’t decide who he hates more: That guy, or himself.

 

 After they turned off the light at 10 pm they’re both lying still in their bed. Richard listens to Grif’s breathing once again, his hands folded on top of his stomach.

“Hey, um...” Grif’s voice from above is very calm. Richard presses his fingertips into his own soft skin. “What I said earlier, about sad people and stuff, you know I...”

“Don’t bother,” Richard says, and then: “Really, don’t.”

The silence that follows is dark and damp and cold.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, I won't talk that much in the future, but I guess I should mention some other things:  
> I took many liberties with the characters. I gave Tex a name that fit into the story and I mixed the Reds and Blues and yeah, you know, I changed a lot of things. But hey, this is a fanfiction and it's an AU and yeah, poetic licence! (Yey!) 
> 
> I also have a lot of head canons for this particular Alternate Universe so if you have some questions about the boys and girls, feel free to chat me up ;)


	3. 3. Nice and slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard F. Simmons is just not really good at sports. Dexter Grif surprisingly is, though. As long as it's going nice and slow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys. I'm sorry it took so long. But you need to know, I have this novel that might get published and me and my agent had a lot of work to do and Uni started again and yeah, you know. Writing is hard work and stuff. *sighs* NaNoWriMo is coming up, too. I still have hope that there might be some more updates in the future ;) Have fun with this one and thanks for staying with me.

**3\. Nice and slow**

 

When Dexter Grif leaves the bathroom one evening Richard can smell his deodorant. It’s vanilla, and it strangely reminds him of his childhood.

„So, do you like jogging?“ Dexter’s standing in their shared room with only his boxer shorts on, rubbing his wet hair dry. Richard tries not to look in his direction. Bare human skin makes him uncomfortable.

“I like what?” He hates that he mumbles.

“Jogging. I mean, you know, running? In the woods? Before class and all, to get your system working. We could both, if you like…go jogging each morning.”

Grif is giving him a crooked smile behind his towel. At least he seems to be honest about it. But Richard doesn’t like to run. He’s not the kind of guy that does sport easily. He gets tired after a few hundred metres and he feels more exhausted afterwards.

So he says no. And Dexter Grif looks honestly disappointed.

Great.

 

Sometimes Richard wonders when he got so awkward. And then he tries to remember if he ever was anything else. In school they used to tease him, at first, later straight out bully him because of his good grades, because of his light red hair, because of his slightly weird accent and his freckles. They would always find a reason. Richard learned to hate other people and not to trust anyone.

Sometimes he thinks about his sister who just got promoted to major a few weeks ago. She’s stationed on a planet Richard doesn’t even know the name of, they don’t really talk. All he knows about her he knows from his Dad.

Yeah, his Dad, Richard thinks. Sometimes his Dad would send him letters. He would tell him how his mother was doing and how his sister was being promoted and how proud they were to have a daughter like that.

He would never ask how Richard was doing. He would just tell him that they were all still alive.

Richard F. Simmons has every right to be awkward, to be suspicious and to not trust anyone. Because never before was there a person trustworthy in his life.

But the longer he thinks about this, the more he hates it.

_I don’t like to be around sad people,_ Grif said to him.

Is he “sad people”? Does he want to be “sad people”?

The next morning when Dexter Grif goes out to run he simply follows him.

 

The air is still damp from the night, fog lies low, hovers just inches above the ground, seems stuck between the branches that just started showing new leafs. It’s silent out here, nothing more to hear than shoes on a dirty forest path, breathing, coughing, the occasional “hey wait”. A stumble. Somewhere the wind makes wood creak, a bird disappears into the rising sun, there are distant sounds in the thicket.

Richard Simmons runs. He runs like his life is in danger. His side burns already, the air he swallows down is thick and heavy and doesn’t really reach his lungs. He feels sick already. At first he tried to concentrate on his breathing, now all he can do is watch his feet fly over the ground. Another step. Another step.

“Simmons, wait!”

It’s not the first time Dexter shouts after him but somehow Richard can’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop and at the same time he wants to. Wants to breathe. Wants to catch his breath and lie down for bit, right there in the mud. But he can’t stop now. He has to run.

“Richard!”

It’s his first name that makes him finally stop. He slows down and eventually he bends forward, his hands against his knees, and sucks in air and coughs and nearly chokes on oxygen. Dexter catches up.

“Jesus, you run like someone is trying to kill you.”

Richard huffs. “Well,” he breathes, “maybe there is. You never know.”

Dexter chuckles. He isn’t even out of breath a little, Richard realises annoyed.

“Why the hell did you make me stop. I was having a great time here nearly dying of asphyxiation.”

His knees are wobbly, his gaze is dizzy as well. Dexter stands still beside him and he really just wants to grab his arm and steady himself but he won’t because it would be ridiculous.

“I just thought you would like to know that you’re doing the whole 'jogging' thing kinda wrong.”

Why did he think being friends with that idiot was a good idea, again? He’s pretty sure a couple of days ago he hated that guy. Why was he even bothering?

“You’re telling me I don’t know how to run properly?”

“Nah, I’m saying that you don’t know how to _jog_ properly.”

Richard is at least a bit sorry for the annoyed sound he’s making but in his defense he thinks he’ll faint in a few seconds if he doesn’t lie down. But instead he tries to focus on Dexter’s face and listen to whatever the man is telling him.

“You know, jogging isn’t about being the fastest one. It’s about running a certain distance without giving up. You know what I mean?”

Richard blinks then rubs his sweaty face with his hand. “Yeah…” His voice sounds hoarse.

“You have to ration your energy. Go slow, control your breathing, watch your feet, concentrate on the way. Come on, run with me.”

Richard is pretty sure he will never move again in his whole life but when Dexter grabs his arm and pulls him with him he gives in without much resistance. They go into a slow trot.

“See, that’s much nicer,” Dexter says and smiles at him and Richard still hates that he doesn’t seem to be exhausted at all or even out of breath a bit. “Nice and slow.”

They run quietly side by side for a while. Everytime Richard speeds up a bit, Dexter reaches out and grabs his shirt or touches his arm and pulls him back, shaking his head. When Richard grimaces because his side hurts again, Dexter tells him to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth and after a while the pain abates. 

They take the short route and soon they’re back at the campus. Some other pupils are already scattered around the place, talking or reading or watching something on their mobile devices. There is a hum in the air, like silent distant chatter.

Richard just knows that he will have the worst muscle ache ever by this time tomorrow, he can already feel it in his knees. But he feels strangely energetic nonetheless. His thoughts buzz inside his head, his heart pumps his blood with such strength that he can feel it in his ears, vibrating.

When they get back to their room Dexter slumps down on the bed, arms stretched above his head, vertebras creaking when he bends backwards.

“That’s my bed,” Richard says and stares at his roommate stretched out on his mattress. His knees still feel weak. He wonders where Dexter Grif comes from, with his light brown skin. He wonders what it is about that man. He wonders why he can’t stop staring.

“Yeah, I know but mines up there.” Dexter smiles impish. “You know, I don’t really like moving around too much. That’s why I like jogging, it’s slow and peaceful. Like really relaxed. Take it easy, just take it easy.”

There is an awkward silence when they just stare in different directions for a while before Dexter finally gets up again, grabbing a towel and some clean clothes.

“Hey, uhm…,” Richard hates that he stutters.

“We should do this again.” Dexter Grif beats him to it. He even manages a smile Richard strangely can’t give back. It’s like he still has to learn how to smile again. How to be sociable even.

Richard spends the next minutes listening to the shower, flexing his muscles and admitting that he actually feels good even after running for so long. And while he listens to the water next door, to people outside their room talking, to the noise in his ears, to his joints creaking, he thinks about running. Maybe Dexter is right. You don’t have to be the fastest one all the time. Sometimes it’s just nice to get to the finish line and be still alive. To breathe. To have a heartbeat.

Slowly he lifts his hand, reaches for his neck and presses his fingertips into the soft skin under his jaw. He finds the pulse. So, he’s alive after all. Richard F. Simmons smiles for the first time after what feels like decades. And it almost hurts.

 

 

 

 


End file.
